


Holding Down the Fort

by gaydestiny



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydestiny/pseuds/gaydestiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is tasked with the great responsibility of watching over the loft while Peter and Cora go looking for Derek. When Derek finally gets back, he finds Stiles in a... compromising position.</p><p>Set between 3.08 and 3.09 but in a slightly different version of canon where Derek and Jennifer are not together because that was the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Down the Fort

**Author's Note:**

> This was me practicing smut before attempting it in my prison AU (so yes it was my first time writing porn but I actually think it turned out okay! But I would love feedback on whether it was hot or not because yeah, I'm just really curious)

_“Stiles,” Derek growls angrily through his teeth as he fists his hand in Stiles’ shirt and shoves him down onto the sofa, holding him in place with his whole body._

_“What did I do now? I’m sorry if my comment about your interior decorating skills really pissed you off that much, but can you get off me? You’re heavy.”_

_“You’re just - infuriating sometimes,” Derek huffs, not taking hands off of Stiles._

_“And you’re just a drama queen, now can you move before I-” Stiles’ words die on his tongue when he feels the unmistakable bulge of Derek’s dick pressing against his hip._

_“Oh, God,” Stiles says, half panicked and half unbelievably aroused._

_Derek takes that as a sign to purposefully grind himself against Stiles’ own hardening cock, causing them both to moan in unison._

_“Fuck, Derek, yes,” Stiles surges forward and captures Derek’s mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue stroking along Derek’s soft lips-_

“Ah! Shit!” Stiles rolls off the couch and falls flat on his face, flailing blindly through sleep clouded eyes for his phone, which is blaring Scott’s personalized ringtone. He crawls on his hands and knees over to the sad excuse for a coffee table that Cora forced Derek to buy, and he picks up his phone, putting an abrupt stop to the chorus of _The Bad Touch_ which had shocked him awake. 

“Yo,” Stiles answers, clearing his throat and trying very hard not to think about the dream he was just engaged in. 

“Yeah, it’s me, apparently they still haven’t found him, but they think they might have a lead out near Red Bluff. They said they’d be back by tomorrow morning, at the latest. Oh, and Cora said not to touch her Luna bars,” Scott says. 

“Why couldn’t they call me and tell me this themselves? I am the one doing the Hale clan a massive favor out of the goodness of my heart.” 

“Isn’t Peter paying you like $300 to housesit?”

“Beside the point, I’m getting incredibly bored here and I don’t get why someone else couldn’t do this,” Stiles sighs and sits back down on the sofa, resigning himself to at least another 12 hours of ass numbing boredom. 

“Stiles, you know why. The pack is kind of dealing with a lot right now. Just, call me if, you know, Deucalion shows up and tries to kill you.”

“Ha ha, that’s hilarious Scott. You should tell that joke at my _funeral_. Because seriously, if any of the Alphas do decide to show up you know I’ll be puppy chow,” Stiles tries to keep his tone light, but being a defenseless human protecting a werewolf hideout which is hardly secret to the enemy is slightly taxing on the nerves. 

“You’ll be fine. I gotta go, though. Bye,” Scott hangs up before Stiles can say anything else, and he throws his head back against the cushions with a moan. 

“There’s not even a TV here!” Stiles complains to the empty loft, and stands up to continue his half hearted snooping that he had started earlier. 

Derek’s loft feels nothing like a home. It’s freezing, for one thing, and there’s barely any furniture, but that’s not even the worst of it. It smells like rust and wood chips and the faint yellow light allowed in by the grimy windows makes the whole place feel like an abandoned shoe factory or something. Stiles can barely believe that one person lives here, let alone three. 

He had jumped at the opportunity to watch over Derek’s place when Peter and Cora went looking for him, thinking he might be able to find out some more information about the ever-elusive and enigmatic Derek, but so far he’s found absolutely nothing. He thought he’d at least stumble across some porn or maybe a laptop he could break into, but so far in his search the most interesting thing he’s found is a family portrait of the Hales, where Derek looks to be around 13 years old. It makes him too sad to look at it, so he puts it back upstairs where he found it and tries to push Derek’s sweet, unburdened smile from the photograph out of his mind. 

Stiles is pleasantly surprised to discover there’s actually a refrigerator in the loft, but his happiness at the thought of some free food disappears the minute he opens the door and finds nothing but slabs of raw meat. That seems a bit extreme, even for Derek. Stiles knows Derek eats regular food... Well, actually, he’s never _seen_ him eat anything, but he has to assume he doesn’t just gnaw on raw steaks like a dog. 

In the end he decides to disregard Scott’s warning and have one of Cora’s Luna bars, Peppermint Stick, before going back to sit on the couch and play around with his phone. 

It’s almost three hours and ten games of Words With Friends later before Stiles allows himself to think about the dream. 

He’d be lying if he said it was the first dream he’d had about Derek that was.... like that. He’d even be lying if he said it was the tenth, or fifteenth, but he’d always chalked it up to his lack of sexual experience and the amount of times he and Derek had been pushed up against each other. His body was bound to react in some way, right? Also Derek was gorgeous, that was just a fact and it wasn’t Stiles’ fault. 

Despite all of the reassurances that Stiles gave himself on a daily basis, he still feels somehow guilty every time he can’t help but jerk off to the thought of Derek pushing him against a wall and kissing the hell out of him, or fucking him in the back of the jeep, or even worse, when he catches himself thinking about innocent things, like what it would be like to sit down with Derek and just talk for hours and really get to know each other. 

Because, well, Derek is Derek. Not only is he totally 100% straight, he also can’t stand Stiles, and is like, at least six years older than him. So really, it’s just wrong, and in the end Stiles knows his weird little crush on Derek is going to end up coming out somehow and he’s going to die of shame and then his life will be over. 

Unfortunately, Stiles does have to sleep at some point, and he’s decided that out of the three Hales, he feels the least uncomfortable about sleeping in Derek’s bed. 

That is until he’s lying in it in nothing but his boxers, and all he can think about is how Derek has slept here, Derek has probably been _naked_ on these sheets since the last time they were washed, he’s probably even jerked off here, if Derek does normal stuff like that...

Stiles is so fucked. Derek’s scent is overpowering even to his weak human nose, and it’s sending tingles up and down his arms, and the sheets feel so good against his bare skin that he just can’t help but reach below the elastic of his boxers and take his half hard cock into his hand. The first touch sends an unexpectedly strong jolt of pleasure down his spine, and Stiles moans, loud enough to hear it echo around the entire loft. 

“This is so fucked up,” Stiles whispers into the pillow, and he gets hit with another overwhelming surge of Derek’s scent, which just turns him on more. He slides his boxers the rest of the way down his legs, and starts pumping his hand faster and faster, sparing a few paranoid glances towards the door every few seconds. 

His breathing is coming fast and hard now, and he tries to put himself back into the dream from before. He imagines Derek, all hard muscle and rough stubble, forcing Stiles down onto the bed and having his way with him. It’s not hard to do, considering how many times Derek has thrown Stiles around. 

Stiles is pretty far gone at this point, fucking into his fist and thrashing around on the bed. He can feel the telltale signs of his orgasm start to build, and he squeezes his eyes shut and moans loud enough to be heard down the street. 

_“Derek, fuck, I’m so close, come on,” he pants out, his voice hoarse with need._

_“Stiles?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Stiles!”_

_“Fuck, yes, c’mon Derek, I-”_

“Stiles. What are you doing in my bed?” Stiles’ eyes snap open and he swears his entire life flashes before his eyes. Derek is standing by the door, his face awash in complete and utter confusion and horror. He looks almost pained, and the way his hands are clenched into fists does not bode well for Stiles. 

“I. I’m uh. Housesitting,” Stiles sits up slowly and tries to hide his dick with the sheet he’s mercifully concealed under, not that it makes it any less obvious what he was just doing. His mind is racing trying to think of _some_ sort of explanation for this, but he knows there’s nothing Derek would believe. 

Derek walks slowly towards the bed, looking like he would rather be literally anywhere but here. “Housesitting,” is all he says, looking Stiles up and down and then sniffing the air, that pained expression returning to his face. “Do you wanna tell me why it reeks of arousal in here, then?” Derek stares at Stiles, full-on scary Alpha stares, and Stiles isn’t sure but he’s pretty sure he whimpers. 

“Derek, I am, _so_ , sorry. It’s just that I was doing Peter a favor and staying here for a while and I was, y’know, so _bored_ , and, um, I’ll leave now, you never have to see me again, I’ll buy you some new sheets, just please don’t mention this to anyone and-”

“You don’t have to,” Derek says, looking very pointedly at his own feet.

“What?” Stiles asks.

“Leave. If you don’t want to. You can- um, stay,” Derek finishes, looking back up at Stiles, who is gaping at him in shock. 

“You’re saying you _don’t_ want to rip my throat out for masturbating in your bed? Is that what you’re saying to me right now?” Stiles shifts around uncomfortably as Derek’s gaze drops to the bulge under the sheets which is clearly Stiles’ very stubborn and still hard cock. Stiles crosses his legs under the sheet and looks up at Derek, waiting for the answer. 

“I think what I’m saying,” Derek says cautiously, moving slightly closer to Stiles’ side of the bed, “-is that I want to keep you in my bed for as long as possible,” Derek looks a little terrified, and Stiles’ heart is thumping so loudly he’s surprised it’s not hurting Derek’s ears. 

Derek... _wants_ him? Like, in a sexual way? Stiles is positive he’s somehow misinterpreting this, but on the small off-chance that he _isn’t_ , he decides to just go for it. 

“Derek, if you wanna fuck me, by all means, I am literally naked and waiting in your bed, so, you know,” Stiles throws his arms out and raises his eyebrows in a gesture of _get the fuck over here, I haven’t got all day_. It’s the ballsiest thing Stiles has ever done, and he’s honestly terrified for all possible outcomes in this situation, but when Derek doesn’t run away in disgust it does calm his nerves slightly. 

“You want this?” Derek asks, breathing deeply through his nose and looking like the very picture of restraint, and Stiles can’t take the anticipation any longer. He whips the sheet off and onto the floor, leaving himself completely naked and exposed, and reaches up to grab the sleeve of Derek’s shirt. 

“Yes. A fucking billion times yes, you asshole, can’t you smell it on me or something? Now get over here,” Stiles pulls Derek down onto the bed with him and that seems to be as much reassurance as Derek needs. 

Derek strips off his shirt and rolls them so Stiles is laying on top, and the unexpected maneuver knocks the breath out of him. 

“You don’t wanna be on top? Gotta admit that’s a surprise,” Stiles says, before he gets distracted by running his hands up and down Derek’s biceps and across the smooth, hot skin of his chest. 

Derek doesn’t say anything right away, just stares up at Stiles and traces a hand softly over his cheek and then down to skim across his sides. Stiles shivers from head to toe, a wave of unexpected tenderness towards Derek hitting him right in the gut. 

“I just wanted to look at you,” Derek says, almost too quietly to be heard. They’re both breathing heavily and neither one of them wants to make the first real move, and the tender moment stretches until Stiles can’t stand the waiting anymore. He leans down and presses his lips against Derek’s, hoping that Derek will take the lead from there because Stiles has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. 

Luckily, Derek responds by grabbing Stiles by the back of his head and pulling him down even closer, grinding their hips together and deepening the kiss by sliding his tongue slowly against Stiles’. It causes them both to moan, and Stiles attempts to pull back so he can rid Derek of his jeans, but Derek grabs his wrist before he can undo the buckle of his belt. “Not yet,” Derek growls, flipping them again so his weight is holding Stiles down against the mattress. 

“Why not? Come on, let me even the playing field a little, I’m starting to get self conscious,” Stiles laughs uncertainly. Derek just gives him a weird sort of half-smile before he leans down and starts sucking sloppy, wet kisses into the crook of Stiles’ neck, while continuing to rock their bodies together, creating unbelievable friction between their cocks. Stiles throws his head back against the pillows, trying to give Derek as much access to his neck as he possibly can because that feels _amazing_. 

Derek starts to inch further down Stiles’ body, stopping to press kisses against every one of Stiles’ moles and to flick his tongue over each of his nipples. 

“ _Shit_ , oh my God, I can’t believe this actually happening. That feels really good, oh my _God_ ,” Stiles is babbling now, too worked up to worry about filtering his words. Derek’s stubble is scraping against his stomach and he feels dangerously close to coming, despite his cock being almost completely untouched. 

Derek stops his exploration of Stiles’ chest abruptly and braces himself with one hand on either side of Stiles body so he can look up at him. 

“Has anyone ever done this for you before?” Derek asks, and he slips his fingers around the base of Stiles’ cock and gives a tight squeeze. Stiles gasps and almost goes off like a shot, but he somehow manages to reign himself in. 

“No! Ah- uh, nope, this is definitely my dick’s maiden voyage,” Stiles manages to say. Derek grins and he looks every bit the Alpha wolf Stiles knows he is, and then he wraps his lips around the head of his cock and Stiles almost blacks out. 

Derek is aggressive, alternating rapidly between licking, kissing, and sucking, while also maintaining a steady rhythm with his hand, pumping Stiles roughly up and down. Stiles is afraid of coming too soon, but he’s pretty sure there’s no stopping it at this rate. But Derek must be able to sense it or something with his freaky wolf nose, because he pulls away just in time to keep it at bay. 

“No fair,” Stiles whines, grabbing weakly in Derek’s general direction, trying to pull him back down. He stops when he realizes what Derek is doing, and sucks in a steadying breath at the sight of Derek Hale slowly undoing the fastening of his jeans and pushing them down past his cock (he doesn’t wear underwear apparently, good to know). 

“Tell me what you were doing to yourself before I walked in,” he says, sitting back on the bed so he’s no longer touching Stiles in any way. Stiles feels a little thrill go through him when he realizes what’s happening. Derek wants Stiles to _talk dirty to him_. Stiles doesn’t know if he’s sexy enough for this, but he gives it a shot. 

“I was, uh, jerking off,” he almost smacks himself in the face for how stupid and inexperienced he sounds, and he tries to channel his inner porn star for his next response. 

“Mmm? In my bed?” Derek isn’t doing anything yet, just watching Stiles intently, waiting to hear what he has to say. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it but it just smelled so much like you and that cologne you wear and I was already pretty turned on from that dream I had earlier and-” Derek’s eyes flash red and he reaches down to start stroking himself. Stiles gulps. 

“What dream?”

“It was kinda the usual thing. You were yelling at me, pushing me around. I don’t remember it exactly, but I think you shoved me down onto the couch, and I thought you were gonna hit me, but instead you started grinding our dicks together, and we were kissing, and-”

“Was that it?” Derek’s voice is so much lower and rougher than usual, and Stiles’ arousal has a strong undercurrent of fear, even though he knows Derek would never hurt him. 

“Yeah. I woke up before we could... Y’know...” 

“Fuck?” Derek has stopped jerking himself off in favor of reaching under the bed and retrieving a bottle of lube. 

“What, no condoms?” Stiles laughs out, bordering on hysterical when it sinks in that he’s actually about to lose his virginity to the subject of his months long obsession. That he’s about to lose his virginity _period_. 

“I’m clean. I’m assuming you are too?” Derek just raises his eyebrows, and Stiles makes a mental note to give him shit for mocking him later. For now, he just nods, and stays completely still as Derek crawls across the bed and situates himself between Stiles’ legs. 

“You’re shaking,” Derek says, running his hands soothingly up and down Stiles tensed up thigh muscles. 

“Yeah. Generally what people do when they’re incredibly nervous,” Stiles says, and he tries to remind himself that now is not the time to chicken out, but he can see Derek’s cock and the thought of it actually fitting inside him is slightly horrifying. 

Derek doesn’t say anything to him, just leans down and kisses him, softly. He skims his hands all over Stiles’ flushed skin, and then starts to nibble almost playfully at his ear. 

“I’ll make it good for you, don’t worry,” Derek whispers, and it actually does calm him slightly. Then he adds, “I’ll even let you choose if you want to fuck me, or the other way around,” Stiles’ dick twitches unexpectedly at that, and presses a moan into Derek’s hair. 

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Stiles asks, and Derek turns his head so Stiles can’t see his face, but Stiles is pretty sure he’s laughing. 

“Yes, alright? I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me Derek, I _need_ your cock in my-” Stiles yelps as Derek makes a violent guttural noise in the back of his throat and flips Stiles over so he’s pressed on his stomach and his arms are trapped beneath his body. 

Derek lays himself down on top of Stiles, and Stiles can feel his cock dragging slowly down from the dip of his back until it reaches his ass. Then Derek shifts his weight back so he’s sitting on Stiles’ legs, and Stiles can see him grab for the lube out of the corner of his eye. The next thing Stiles feels is Derek palming his asscheeks and spreading them apart roughly, but he doesn’t move to do anything further. Stiles is squirming uncontrollably, not just from arousal but also extreme self consciousness. 

He’s really not sure what to expect next, so when he feels Derek’s tongue against his hole he jerks wildly and almost falls off the bed, but Derek pins him down with both hands and goes back to licking obscenely at Stiles’ ass. 

It’s not like Stiles hasn’t seen this in porn before, he _definitely_ has, and it totally did it for him too, he’s just never really given any thought to it actually happening to him. Like, isn’t it kinda gross for whoever’s doing it? He considers ruining the mood just to ask Derek if he’s grossed out right now, but then an almost painful jolt of pleasure shoots through him and he forgets what words _are_ , much less how to ask a full question. 

Stiles is full on pressing his ass into Derek’s face now, trying to urge his tongue in further. Derek is making grunting sounds of approval, and before Stiles has time to realize what’s happening, he’s slipping a finger in beside his tongue. 

“C’mon Derek, you don’t have to be so careful, just, _hurry up_ ,” Stiles mumbles into the pillow, knowing in the back of his mind that Derek will be able to hear him loud and clear.  
Derek dribbles some of the lube over the rest of his fingers, and then adds another two fingers at once. Stiles grabs the pillow and tries not to make any noise, but when Derek thrusts his fingers in, hard, he lets out a loud grunt and then a soft whimper as he removes all three fingers and pulls Stiles’ hips up and off the bed. 

“Just relax, can you do that for me, Stiles?” Derek asks, but his voice sounds far away and Stiles can barely nod his head before Derek is pushing in, slowly, but it’s still almost too much and Stiles tenses up involuntarily. 

“Shh, Stiles, you need to relax,” Derek is kissing Stiles’ neck now, little reassuring pecks all over his skin that do little to distract him but still mean a lot. It’s the hand on his neglected cock that manages him to distract him from the discomfort of the giant dick in his ass, and he’s able to relax enough for Derek to push all the way in. 

They both shudder, and Derek stays completely still for a full minute to let Stiles get used to the stretch. It somehow feels both amazing and terrible at the same time, but when Derek thrusts forward gently and skims against Stiles’ prostate on the first try, he decides it pretty much just feels amazing. 

Derek sets a fast tempo, using his hold on Stiles’ hips to piston in and out with inhuman (heh) speed. They’re both moaning loudly, and the loft is filled with the sounds of their fucking; The slapping of skin and their desperate panting along with the litany of curse words streaming from Stiles’ mouth with no end in sight. 

“ _Fuck_ yeah, shit, fuck you really know what you’re, _umph!_ doing, huh?” Stiles says, but Derek doesn’t acknowledge that he’s spoken. He does pull out abruptly, though, leaving Stiles terribly, achingly empty and very confused.

“Turn over,” Derek’s voice sounds like he’s close to the shift, not quite man and not quite beast, but Stiles does as he’s told, and when Derek hitches Stiles’ legs over his shoulders he doesn’t complain, even though he’s hardly flexible enough to be doing this. 

Derek quickly slides back in and resumes his brutal pace, except now he’s also got a hand around Stiles’ dick. The combination of the spikes of intense pleasure every time Derek hits that sweet spot deep inside of Stiles and his hand jerking him off is finally too much to handle, and Stiles clenches up and starts to come. It’s so intense it’s almost painful, and Derek fucks him through it, leaning down for a sloppy kiss before he’s done. 

Derek comes right after that, his hands in a vice-like grip around Stiles’ thighs and his mouth hanging open in pure bliss. Stiles thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and the feeling of Derek’s come in his ass is surprisingly not disgusting at all. 

After that, they’re both still, and Derek lets them both catch their breath before he gently slides out of Stiles and lays down next to him on the bed. 

Stiles knows there’s a variety of things that would be appropriate to say right now, but somehow what comes out is, “You know Boyd wasn’t your fault, right?” He feels like it’s what he needs to say right now, and when Derek just keeps staring at the ceiling, he decides to keep going. 

“There are plenty of things in life that you can blame yourself for, but Boyd knew from the beginning that what he was getting into was dangerous, and it was Kali that killed him, not you,” Stiles places a tentative hand on Derek’s shoulder, and he’s reminded of the night in question. Derek’s just had to deal with so much guilt in his life, Stiles can’t bear to see him shoulder the weight of this, too. 

Derek turns onto his side so his face is only about an inch away from Stiles. 

“What happens to my pack is always my responsibility, Stiles. But thank you, I think this- whatever it was- helped get my mind off it for a while, at least.” 

It’s the worst thing he could have said. 

“Oh, yeah, no, I’m glad I could help. You can always come find me if you ever need to have meaningless sex to get your mind off something again, don’t hesitate to call,” Stiles sits up and moves to get up and collect his clothing and his dignity, but Derek grabs his arm. 

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not stupid Stiles, I think you know this wasn’t meaningless. To either of us,” Derek is so not in his comfort zone right now, Stiles can tell from the pinched look on his face, but he seems to be telling the truth, at least. Stiles rewards him with a smile, and fake punches him in the arm. 

“Yeah, well, I still need to get out of here before Peter and Cora get back. Hey, where did you go, anyway?” Stiles sorts through the pile of clothes on the ground and locates his boxers, using them to wipe away some of the dried jizz on his leg before putting them on. 

“I just ran. It’s cathartic to let the wolf take over sometimes and just, run, you know?” Derek is still laying down, but he’s watching Stiles intently as he puts his clothes back on. 

“Well next time maybe leave a note, huh? I don’t wanna get stuck housesitting again, it’s boring as fuck-” Derek looks like he’s about to laugh, and Stiles realizes his mistake. 

“I mean, maybe it’s not so bad. I did have a pretty delicious Luna bar,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows playfully and pulls on his shirt, making his way towards the door with a stupid smile stuck on his face. 

“You’re such an idiot,” Derek mumbles affectionately, before rolling over and falling asleep. 

* * *

And if Cora and Peter won’t stop asking him why the loft smells like sex for an entire week afterwards, Derek thinks it was still totally worth it.


End file.
